


You're My Dead Sea

by melatonintea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, I suck at tags, Johnlock - Freeform, Love, M/M, Nightmares, Sherlock is adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melatonintea/pseuds/melatonintea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's nightmares lead to an unusual night with his flatmate, where John and Sherlock realize they love each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"This is not what normal flatmates do, John thought to himself. But he had deep feelings for his odd flatmate that he could not suppress. He wasn't surprised, but he also did not want to admit that Sherlock's hands rubbing his back and through his hair gave him a calm feeling. Nor did he want to admit that he never wanted this to end. And surprisingly enough, Sherlock felt the exact same way."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My Dead Sea

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to write something, to get stuff out of my system. Here it is. Enjoy <3
> 
> Note: Title inspired by The Lumineers.

_You told me I was like the Dead Sea_

_You'll never sink when you are with me_

_Oh Lord, like the Dead Sea._

_  
_Sherlock Holmes could fix everything and anything. But like a disease, John Watson was still plagued with horribly vivid nightmares from his war days. He never told Sherlock of these nightmares, and in the morning he brushed them off his shoulder as if they hadn't kept him awake and shivering for many dark hours of the early morning. But he was feeling like he could no longer handle the hellish visions that plagued his sleep. He needed comfort, in the form of another person.

_Boom._ The sound of a bomb crashing nearby. The vibration of the ground around him.  _Crash._ The blood on the dirt ground from the dying soldier next to him. His whispered pleas and cries for help.  _Help me. Please..._

John woke up in a cold sweat with the bed sheets in a tangled mess and his whole body shaking. He fought with himself to hold back the sobs and tears that were approaching. He held himself and rocked back and forth, attempting to calm himself until he could lay back down, but it wasn't working. He needed comfort and he needed to be held. 

It all happened too fast. Without any thought towards the action, John lunged himself out of bed, and made his way to Sherlock's bedroom. The younger man was unusually asleep, curled up into an unrecognizable sleeping form. Being the light sleeper that he is, Sherlock's eyes fluttered open at the sound of his bedroom door being swung open. He had no time to turn around before John had collapsed on his bed, arms tightening around his abdomen. Sherlock waited there, still, until he was completely sure that he wasn't dreaming. He felt John's nose press into the middle of his back and hot tears seep through his thin tee shirt. And that's when he knew he wasn't dreaming. He reached to take old of John's wrist that was clinging to the front of his shirt, and felt his pulse. Racing. He then took hold of both hands, prying them from where they clung to him for, what seemed like, dear life. Without letting go of them, Sherlock shifted his body. "John.  _John._ Let me turn around."

John's grip lessened a bit while he allowed Sherlock to turn aorund and face him. In the dim moonlight that illuminated the bedroom, Sherlock could barely make out the other man's face. But from what he could see, John's face was red and wet and contorted with pain from the stinging tears and sobs that threatened to overtake him. "John, what happened? Please tell me, John, I need to know," Sherlock pleaded. The concern was evident in his voice, which was what prompted John to respond.

"The nightmares, Sherlock," John whispered, barely audible.

And with that one phrase, that one simple phrase, it all came to Sherlock in a flood of thoughts. The nightmares, visions of a bloody and horrific war-filled past, were haunting John every night. He wondered how he could've possibly missed this. Words were no longer necessary. Sherlock moved closer to John, allowing the unstable man to wrap his arms around him once again, and this time, he realized, it actually was for dear life. Sherlock put one arm awkwardly on John's backside, making soothing circles with his hands, while his other hand was in John's hair, running his fingers through it. And eventually, John broke down. He couldn't hold it in any longer. The sobs escaped his lungs violently but silently, and the hot tears flowed quickly from his swollen eyes. Sherlock just held him. "Shh, John it's alright. Okay? It's alright. I'm here." He just kept whispering comforting words, hoping that it would make at least some difference in the way his best friend was feeling.

After some time, John's sobbing ceased and his breath began to become steady. Tears still slid down his face, but he was in control of his mind at last.  _This is not what normal flatmates do_ , John thought to himself. But he had deep feelings for his odd flatmate that he could not suppress. He wasn't surprised, but he also did not want to admit that Sherlock's hands rubbing his back and through his hair gave him a calm feeling. Nor did he want to admit that he never wanted this to end. And surprisingly enough, Sherlock felt the exact same way.

John's muscles tensed up again, and Sherlock knew this, tightening his grip on his flatmate. "It's okay John, I'm right here next to you. Just let it out."

"No, it's not, Sherlock. I'm drowning in my own mind. It's killing me."

"Hey now. Don't say that, alright? I'm right here. As long as you're with me, you won't drown, okay? I'm here. I'll always be. You'll be safe with me. You won't drown in your mind. Trust me." And with that, Sherlock lowered his head until he was level with John, and kissed him lightly on the forehead. Surprisingly, John didn't protest, but he blushed. "I love you, John Watson. Just please know that. You mean everything to me and I can't hold my feelings in any longer. I'm sorry." Sherlock lowered his head, as if in shame that he had just revealed something very personal.

"Don't be sorry, because I love you too. So very much. I never wanted to tell you, in fear that you wouldn't react very well." John took one hand away from where it was still hanging on to the back of Sherlock's shirt, and placed it under the younger man's chin. He lifted Sherlock's head up and moved closer to him, if at all possible. And that's when he kissed him. He placed his lips softly on Sherlock's and held them there, giving Sherlock a chance to pull away if he wanted. But because he didn't, they engaged themselves in a long, meaningful kiss. It was probably the best John had ever had, and the only one Sherlock had ever had.

And when it was finally over, they pulled away from each other slowly, but still holding one another close. 

"Do you want me to leave to my own bed now, Sherlock?" John whispered.

"Don't be ridiculous, John."

They both smiled in the darkness of the room. A slight chill blew throught the cracked window, and Sherlock moved to cover them in his heavy blanket that was on his bed. John rested his head comfortably on the other's chest, where Sherlock's chin rested on top of John's head. John sighed a deep sigh of relief and contentness, as he listened to Sherlock's steady heartbeat that lulled him back into a calm sleep. 

Sherlock smiled to himself as he laid listening to John's light, sleeping breaths. "I will protect you forever John. I love you. I promise."


End file.
